


Renascentia

by MabelLover



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Transmigration, implied depression, you ruined everything light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24512941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelLover/pseuds/MabelLover
Summary: "Agnes wasn’t quite sure what had happened. She fell asleep one day, after dinner, and woke up small, screaming, powerless, her own limbs not obeying her. All felt overwhelming, and, for a very brief moment, she thought she was dying.She’d find out, later on, that she was already dead."Not everyone who is reborn has the most stable mental condition, especially not those who are reborn in a place like the Yagami household.
Relationships: Yagami Sachiko/Yagami Souichirou
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	Renascentia

Agnes wasn’t quite sure what had happened. She fell asleep one day, after dinner, and woke up small, screaming, powerless, her own limbs not obeying her. All felt overwhelming, and, for a very brief moment, she thought she was dying.

She’d find out, later on, that she was already dead.

* * *

The people around her spoke something that Agnes didn’t understand. She couldn’t understand them. She couldn’t, she couldn’t, and it was too much, and she cried again. Someone held her, frantically cooing, but she kept crying, she didn’t want to be there, she wanted to _leave_!

She felt being passed over to someone else, someone far quieter, who didn’t speak or sing or coo or rock her back and forth, someone who just held her and shielded Agnes from the bright light. Her cries subsided to sobs, and then to a dreamless sleep.

From then on, that person held her a lot more.

* * *

Time passed and Agnes couldn’t keep track of it, but it seemed that an eternity had passed when her sight finally cleared. The first thing she saw was a ceiling, white and boring, like in any other house. The second thing she saw was a little girl with dark brown hair who smiled at her. The third thing was more familiar: a boy around ten, with light brown hair, and the same smell as the person who held her.

The children looked Asian, and Agnes couldn’t figure out why they were there, with her. The girl held out a soft fabric toy into the enclosure that Agnes found herself in and placed it next to her. She instinctively hit it with a small, chubby fist.

She… Agnes. She looked like a baby.

* * *

The first thing that Agnes recognized in that new language of hers was her own name. Sayori. It was, at least, what the people kept calling her. It sounded Asian, fitting of the new family she been apparently born into, but Agnes couldn’t imagine herself shedding her old name, her _real_ name, given to her by her _real_ parents. Regardless of what she wished, Agnes would have to, at the very least, accept Sayori as what others would call her.

As the boy, her new brother, held her to her chest, and her sister played with her feet, Agnes figured that being Sayori wouldn’t be that bad.

* * *

Learning a new language was a long, grueling process. Agnes’ first word was ‘merde’, simply because it could be, but no one noticed it, since her new family spoke only that vaguely defined Asian language. Her frustration with the lack of recognition led to the first proper word: kaa. Agnes’ new mother was delighted, and her siblings were as well.

* * *

One day, Agnes learned her siblings’ names. She’d been calling then nii and nee, thinking those were their names, and not monikers, and only after a lot of confusion did she realize her mistake. A mistake that was to be rectified.

Her older sister was called Sayu. Her eldest brother was Raito.

Agnes cried well into the night, because she discovered she’d forgotten her first siblings’ names. Raito came into her room and held her against his chest.

* * *

Her new father was a man that Agnes rarely saw. He worked at some sort of stressing desk job, if his formal clothes and greying hair were anything to go by, and despite smiling at his children and helping his wife the most he could, that most was still eight hours a week.

Her new mother, on the other hand, was a housewife. She took care of all the chores and dealt with Agnes during the day while Sayu and Raito were at school, and made sure to spend quality time with all of her children at night. They liked to watch movies together.

* * *

After a year of being _reborn_ , Agnes finally realized that the vaguely-defined Asian country she now lives in was Japan. Which, all things considered, wasn’t as bad as China or North Korea. Still, the idea of having to learn not only a diabolical difficult language but also a terrifying writing system terrorized her. And so, she decided to get as much of a headstart as she could.

Agnes stole books from Sayu, who was in the first year of school. She pestered Raito to read them for her, until she could associate the squiggles with the sounds and, eventually, the meanings. She never told anyone that she’d managed to do it. Instead, she kept asking Raito to read to her.

* * *

Agnes’ pudgy fingers at the age of three weren’t ideal to draw, but she wanted to register her first family before their faces disappeared from her mind. She filled paper after paper, until Sayu noticed and she and her mother surprised her with a blank notebook.

She filled page after page with color and memories. She never told anyone who the figures were, not even to Raito.

Her brother still held her at night when she cried, those precious memories by Agnes’ breast.

* * *

At the age of six, Agnes began to attend school. It was a private establishment that Sayu and Raito had gone to years prior, and all the teachers knew Raito the genius and Sayu the social butterfly. The all looked at Agnes and expected to see something great in her, mayhap Sayori the artist. And she, in her child mask, allowed them to see what they wanted to see. She made drawings of the cartoons and the teachers and the other kids and her new family.

But her little notebook of memories stayed closed. It was for Agnes’ eyes only.

* * *

She had only begun to read katakana when a worldwide broadcast was announced. She watched a man die in live TV in horror, her scream of terror punctuated with her mother’s hurry to get her away from the television. Agnes ran upstairs, panicked and crying. A heart attack – it’d been a heart attack? That man. Lind L. Taylor. He died.

Agnes knocked heavily on Raito’s door, crying and screaming for him to open it. He didn’t. She cried heavily, sobbed desperately, and kneeled hopelessly on the floor, just outside her brother’s room. She heard screaming inside, but couldn’t understand it.

That man had died.

Agnes had _died_.

* * *

Sayori woke up in her bed. She had dried tears on her face, and a worried mother and sister by her side. They hugged her when she managed to sit up. They’d been worried.

Raito didn’t come. He began to distance himself from his youngest sister, the little girl he had so dearly loved. He began to love something else instead. Something far darker, far more powerful, and far more destructive.

Sayori remembered. It was at that point, in the corridor where she’d cried and screamed for her brother until she passed out, that she remembered Yagami Light. She wanted to forget him. That man, the man who’d destroy her new family for power and godhood. She tried, she tried to hold her breath until she passed out or to lay head down on the bathtub until all oxygen left her body. She tried burning the notebook of memories on the stove to try to burn _those_ memories as well. Instead, all she got was burned fingers and a worried mother.

They took Sayori to therapy, and only got from it a confession that she just wanted to destroy the notebook. The note. When she got back from it, she went through all the notebooks with black covers and threw them into the river. From then on, her mother only bought bright pink notebooks for her.

* * *

Kira was talked of everywhere. In the streets, at school, at home. Her father, a policeman, _Yagami Light’s father_ , brought Kira with him to the dinner table, the TV brought Kira to the late-night shows, her classmates brought Kira to the playground.

_Let’s play Kira and robbers, Sayori-chan!_

L was the worst of all, Sayori thought. L had brought Kira to Yagami Light by saying that he was real. L took her brother Raito away from her.

Because, deep down, she couldn’t hate Raito, even when he didn’t come to calm her down at night anymore.

* * *

That day, Sayori waited until Sayu and her mother went out. She waited until Raito went to cram school. She waited. She waited. And then, finally, she acted.

She went up the stairs, to that room. She opened that door. She went to the drawer and opened it. She took out the fake diary, tossing it to the ground, and patted the fake bottom. Sayori breathed in deeply, and then, that seven-year-old child that happened to house someone else’s soul forced the fake bottom open to reveal a black notebook. The gasoline reacted with the electricity, and an explosion consumed the notebook, the desk, and Yagami Sayori, age seven.


End file.
